


I Do

by bookjunkiecat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Celebrate marriage equality, Greg is vulnerable, M/M, Mycroft is loving, Originally posted to Tumblr 29 March 2019, Wedding Jitters, Well Groomed Event, past-infidelity (not Mystrade), reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: On the eve before his wedding to Mycroft, Greg has serious doubts about the future. Can a man who has never before known a good relationship be trusted with marriage? Luckily he's marrying the smartest man in the world.





	I Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WastingYourGum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/gifts).



> Inspired by @wastingyourgum's request for fics celebrating marriage equality in the UK, I posted this to Tumblr on March 29, 2019. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr & Twitter @savvyblunders!

Staring into the dying embers of the fire, Greg bit his lip as he heard the distinctive creak of the floorboard outside their bedroom. His heart pounded nervously as soft footsteps approached down the stairs, and inevitably trailed into the sitting room. “Darling,” Mycroft asked from the doorway, a smile in his sleepy voice, “what’s the matter…couldn’t sleep?” His smile was evident in his fond tone as he leaned over the back of the sofa and wound affectionate arms around Greg’s neck. Nuzzling his cheek, he murmured, “Need some help relaxing?”

Greg tried to respond, but his voice betrayed him by cracking on the first syllable of his fiancé’s name, and to his horror he felt tears sting hotly. Mycroft lost no time in getting to him, choosing the most expedient route by simply climbing over the sofa back and crouching close to his side. “What’s wrong, Gregory?”

His blue eyes were so concerned, so  _tender_. Greg tried to compose himself, sucked in a quavering breath, blurted, “I can’t marry you!”

As if unable to process the words at first, Mycroft’s expression altered slowly from concern to a look of loss which made Greg’s already labouring heart stutter miserably. Unable to speak, Greg gnawed on his lower lip and watched Mycroft stare for a moment at his own pyjama-clad lap, before he looked up. “Do you no longer love me?”

“Of course I do,” Greg choked out, wanting to clutch at Mycroft’s hands, to tell him to not be daft. The problem wasn’t _love._ He had so much he was in danger of overflowing and flooding the world around them. But he was calling off their wedding, the least he could do was start as he meant to go on.

“Is there someone else?” It clearly pained Mycroft to ask, even though he just as clearly seemed doubtful that the answer would be affirmative.

“ _No_ ,” Greg couldn’t bear it if Mycroft thought there were anyone else. “God, how could there be, Myc?” After he’d finally found the most fantastic man on earth and the love of his life how could there ever be anyone else?

Mycroft blinked myopically at him; he always removed his contacts at night, and there was something sort of owlish and vulnerable about him with his diminished vision. “Gregory, my love,” he finally said, reaching for Greg’s hand and clasping it between his own. Greg should have pulled away, but he was weak. He clung gratefully to this last opportunity to touch the love of his life. “I confess I cannot think of any other reason which should prevent us from marrying.” He sighed softly, “It’s nearly three in the morning. We’re getting married in approximately ten hours. Perhaps you could explain?”

It came out haltingly, all of his fears and insecurities. His worries that Mycroft wouldn’t always love him. “After Kim cheated on me– _twice_ –” Greg said bitterly, “I can’t help but think I’m, I’m cursed. I dated a handful of women before I got married and three of them cheated on me, or dumped me for someone better.” His breath strangled on fresh tears. Burying his face in his hands, Greg confessed through rough breaths, “It’s me, Myc. It has to be. There’s something wrong with me… I-I’m broken, somehow.” He couldn’t look at Mycroft’s face, “It might hurt now to call things off, but god, Myc, I can’t bear to lose you.”

“So you choose to throw me away now?” Mycroft asked witheringly. Greg flinched, waiting for the inevitable razor-sharp Holmes disdain. “You  _idiot,_ ” Mycroft breathed, but he sounded on the verge of gentle laughter. Greg looked at him startled.

Mycroft’s eyes were damp with tears, but so loving that Greg felt a wash of emotion, almost, dare he name it, hope. “Gregory,” Mycroft said gently, taking his hand again and pressing a kiss to it, “I adore you, but you’re truly an idiot at times.”

“Oi,” Greg protested, but weakly.

“Your ex-wife was many things, most of them best left unspoken,” Mycroft said delicately, his magnificent nose wrinkling with disdain. “But she was not  _me._ There is not a chance in this world that I will ever let you go willingly.”

“Not saying you’ll cheat on me,” Greg said, using his free hand to wipe his embarrassingly wet cheeks, “But who says you’ll want me for the rest of our lives? You-you’re amazing. What am I?”

“The man I love,” Mycroft said tenderly. “The man who taught me  _how_  to love. You are every youthful fantasy I had, made flesh, but thrillingly real, and warm and human.” He went on, easing into Greg’s side and pulling him to him with a loving arm. Gratefully Greg sank against him, letting his head rest on Myc’s shoulder.“ I waited forty-three years for you,” Mycroft said softly, combing his fingers through Greg’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Wearily Greg let his eyes close.

“You’ll figure out I’m nothing special,” Greg said tiredly, petting Mycroft’s thigh. “You’re so amazing, love, and I can’t keep up with you. One of these days you’ll look around and want someone more–”

“If you say” posh" I shall divorce you,“ Mycroft threatened.

Greg laughed softly before sobering, "Not married yet,” he reminded him sadly.

“Then let us marry post haste, and I shall keep you in line with my fearsome threats.”

Greg sighed, “I know you’re trying to talk me down, but this is serious.”

“I’m fully aware of the seriousness of the situation,” Mycroft said soberly. He was silent for a long moment. Finally he spoke, “I’m fifty years old, Greg. We’ve shared a life for seven years. I know what I want, what makes me happy. And that is  _you._ What will not make me happy, what I do not want, is to marry you if it’s not what you want. So…what do you want?”

Greg struggled for a long moment, knowing what he should say, and also knowing what he wanted to say. He thought about the last seven years, about every wonderful, peaceful, maddening, thrilling, mundane, exhausting moment. “I want to marry you,” he finally said, raising his head from Myc’s shoulder and gazing into his eyes. He watched the relief flood them as he went on, “It would be pretty stupid of me to make us both miserable now to try and avoid something that might never happen, wouldn’t it?”

“Unutterably foolish,” Mycroft said lightly, but his eyes had glossed over with tears and his kiss was deep and gentle and thankful. “Believe in us, Gregory,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to Greg’s, “I do.”


End file.
